Gerald pointed towards the ground.
“Now, start digging.”
“Didn’t you bring a shovel too?” asked Andrew, gripping his.
“I brought the map, you dimwit!”
“Fine,” grumbled Andrew, scooping up dirt.
For several hours one man dug a deep hole, while another kept watch with the lantern.
Andrew breathed heavily, resting against the shovel. “Are you sure it’s buried here?”
“The maps says this is the spot. Old man Horvath was very specific about it. The old coot buried millions down there. Didn’t trust banks after the crash of ’29.”
Andrew sighed and resumed excavating. Within moments there was a distinctive thud. Both men froze.
“I think this is it!” shouted Andrew. He cleared away more dirt and uncovered the top of a large metal trunk.
Ten minutes later, the two giddy thieves were sifting through stacks of cash, gold and bearer bonds.
“We’re rich!” cried Andrew. “I’m gonna use my half to buy a house on an island somewhere and sit on a beach all day!”
“Yeah… half,” muttered Gerald, picking up the shovel. “You know what’s nice about buried treasure?”
“What?” asked his partner, turning his head upwards.
“The holes make great unmarked graves!” said Gerald, swinging the shovel hard.
Word Count: 200
[This is my entry into the Flash Fiction Challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner by Roger Shipp. Write a story based on a photo prompt and introductory sentence in 200 words or less.]